The Work Of Angels
by Dakota Riley
Summary: A best friend's death, a sleepover, and an angel who is pretty proud of himself. RoyAi.


All day. She had all day to plan it out. What to say. How to say it. She still didn't have any ideas. She felt sick for volunteering for a job like this, but she knew it wouldn't hurt as much this way. Ease the pain. Protect him. That was her goal. Then why did it feel so wrong?

She had received respectful, anxious, and mournful glances all day. The hours couldn't possible have passed any slower then today. Finally came the time. She still didn't know how to approach the situation. Wait until they were out of the office? Wait until everyone else had left? Call him later at home? Drop by for an unannounced visit? Nothing seemed to work in her mind.

Finally, she inhaled deeply and gazed at him from across the room. Deceiving tears threatened to give her away too soon. "Sir, you wouldn't happen to have any plans tonight, would you?" She asked. Standing up, she watched him.

"Feeling lonely, Lieutenant?" He asked, eyes shimmering playfully. She winced.

"You have no idea, Sir." She whispered. At once, he seemed to be on guard. It was almost as if she had already broken the news to him.

"I think my schedule is clear for tonight. If you want, I can stop by your apartment later." He sat back in his chair, his expression showed how hard it was for him to hold back his curiosities.

"No, I'll come to you." She couldn't have him driving home. Odds were, he would be in a terrible state. "Tonight, maybe around 6 o'clock?" She suggested.

"Sure. See you there."

A dim glance at the clock showed her it would be a mere hour before he would be expecting her. Her coat slid on and she headed for the door.

He watched her from behind, curious, anxious. The Lieutenant was acting strange all day. He was dying to get to the bottom of her problems. He also knew she would never, _ever, _say she was lonely in such a blatant manner. Loosening his collar, he headed out after her. He had an apartment to prepare for company.

___

A nervous glance at her wrist watch. 6 o'clock on the dot. She had no idea what to expect. Would he be furious? Surely. Would he be saddened? Most diffidently. Would she be the one to blame? Who knew.

She adjusted her jacket over her blouse. She hated men from work seeing her in anything other then uniform. She got too many glances in uniform. She had no idea how many she would receive dressed any other way. But the Colonel was different. He always looked at her with kind eyes. From time to time, they may have been lustful, but she was confident he wouldn't lay a hand on her without her consent. The thought almost made her smile. Almost.

Another knock. Two minutes after 6.… The door swung open. He smiled casually and he invited her in. He was dressed nearly as casually as his greeting. Loose black pants. A nice button-up shirt that could have used a good ironing. Socks. It was odd to see him out of uniform. Again, the thought of being able to be alone with him in his home without the stiff wool uniforms almost made her smile.

"Now, care to explain to me why you were feeling lonely?" He asked, motioning for her to sit on the couch when he took a seat on the table in front of it.

It was time. He had to know.

"Sir…"

"That's me. Unless of course you are getting an amazing promotion or there in another Colonel in your life."

She wished she could share his good-humored jokes. They always made her want to smile. His jokes she was sure he saved for when they had moments alone like this. There were already enough rumors spread about that they were involved. When they weren't. That would be unprofessional. Somehow she had managed to convince him that some comments weren't suitable for casual office chit-chat.

She glanced down at her clenched fists, a small smile taking over her face.

"There isn't another Colonel in your life, is there?" He asked. Mock fear lacing it's way into his voice. At least, she hoped it was mock.

"No, Sir." She looked up at him, her shoulders sagging. _How uncharacteristic. _He thought perceptively.

"Well then what could possibly be bringing you to my humble home on a work night? I know it wasn't my cooking and it sure as Hell wasn't my charming personality." He chuckled and rolled up the sleeves of is shirt.

She frowned. "No, Sir. I need to tell you something." She bit her lip, the salty taste of blood disgusting her.

"What? If you're in trouble you know you can tell me." He looked at her, a tinge of the happy-go-lucky Colonel she loved was fading. He was beginning to get serious.

"No, Sir. I'm-"

"Will you stop saying 'No, Sir'?" He interjected.

"Sorry, Sir. But no, I'm not in trouble. I'm perfectly fine…" She sighed.

"Then what could possibly be the problem, my dear Lieutenant?" The humor returned to his voice.

"Sir, Hughes is dead."

There. Those vile words were out of her mouth. Now all she had to do was wait for a reaction.

He simply stared at her for a moment. Uncertainty flashing in the dark depths of his eyes. "Lieutenant, please be serious."

"I-I am…" She murmured.

"Then perhaps I miss-heard you. I swear you just sai-"

"I did, Sir. I'm sorry." She looked down at her lap. Her fingernails were digging painfully into her palms, but she couldn't care less.

He shook his head slowly before his chest exploded into fits of dark chuckling. "No, that's not possible. It can't be. I just spoke to him on the phone, you see. Yesterday."

She nodded slowly. "Yes. You said the line had been cut off. They found his body… Sir, he was shot." She whispered apologetically.

Roy shook his head. "No, that can't be… Hughes… Can't have died. H-He was supposed to support me…"

She winced, the pain in his voice was unbearable. She wanted to stand up and run out, but he needed her. If not for her comfort, merely for her presence. She wanted him to know he wasn't alone.

He slid from the table to the floor, his fists clenched and his face contorted with pain. Pain she had brought on. She felt like she was going to be sick as he sobbed silently at her feet. With a sudden thought, she walked over to a small coat rack by the door and rummaged through his pockets. His gloves…

She quickly slid them into her pockets. She couldn't let him do something stupid in his grief. A loud crash sounded from behind her. His fist lay on the table, he was crouched beside it painfully. "Sir…" She walked over and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His hand shot up, attempting to destroy the thing that dared to touch him in his misery. For a fleeting second, he forgot who he was. He got to his feet and faced her. He lifted his hand and swung out, his palm slapping against her soft cheek. She stared at him with wide eyes before she sank down on the couch. Her hand gripped her reddened cheek.

He glared down at her. The disgusting worm that dared to touch him after giving him such news. He blinked. A sudden feeling of pressure on his chest. The feeling that someone was kicking him in the gut repeatedly. Her eyes were glazed with pain, and he didn't know if it was emotional or physical. "Hawkeye… Hawkeye I'm sorry."

He reached out slowly and removed her hand from her cheek. She seemed paralyzed. He sat down beside her and examined her face. The large red area made him cringe. "Lieutenant.. Hawkeye, I'm sorry." He ran his fingered gently over her cheek.

"No, Sir. I'm sorry…" She whispered. He chuckled darkly and sat back, gripping his face.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I just assaulted my closest subordinate." He whispered, his voice hoarse.

They sat in silence, occasionally she would feel the cushion quiver as he sobbed quietly into his hands. For a long while, he was still and she looked over at him. "Sir… Please." He sat motionless, staring at the ceiling. Not even a flicker of recognition.

"Please, Sir, say something." She pleaded. She had to know he was okay. She had to know the Colonel she knew and loved was still somewhere in there. Under the pain. He had to survive.

Sir, plea-" She was cut off when he pressed a finger to her lips.

"Lieutenant, you can leave. You don't have to stay for me." He murmured. It sounded as if grief was chocking him. His eyes were closed.

"No. Sir, I'll stay. Unless… You want me to leave." She glanced down at her lap. She squeezed her eyes shut, a futile attempt to hold back tears. Something behind her moved. The couch squeaked. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She felt her hair brushed to the side. She could feel his gaze burning into her cheek.

She lifted her gaze hesitantly. "I would never want you to leave." He whispered. He sounded like he was drunk. His face seemed to be aging as she gazed at him. "Actually, I think I would prefer it if you stayed…"

She nodded slowly. "Then I shall stay."

Time seemed to tick by quickly. He would look at her, then glance at the ceiling. Sometimes he would mutter something she didn't understand. She would stare ahead off into space or she would monitor him. When they happened to catch each other's eyes, he would offer a pathetic yet reassuring smile.

At one point, she looked over to see him leaned back, his eyes closed, with tears rolling slowly down his cheeks. The sight made her heart skip a beat. People called him the 'Hero of Ishbal.' Some hero he looked like now… If only people could see this side of him. The side showed he actually had a heart.

She had to get away from it, but she couldn't leave him like this in his time of need. Sighing, she got to her feet and began roaming around. She had never really been in his home. Not like this. She had stopped in briefly to drop something off or deliver a message, but she had never truly been inside.

It was a fairly well-kept place. Occasionally she would spot a pile of books or a dirty glass laying around on a table. Although, she couldn't complain. Her apartment was worse. Far worse. She still hadn't unpacked from when they had to move down to Central. She never had time.

She found that she had stumbled into the kitchen and flicked on a light. The sink was full of dirty dishes. Giving an exasperated sigh, she grabbed a glass from a cupboard and inspected it. It looked clean, smelled clean. She filled it up with water and carried it out to the Colonel. He didn't stir and she didn't feel like prodding him.

She continued to tour the apartment. She spotted a half-open door and peered inside. His bedroom. The supple scent of cologne wafted out and she inhaled deeply. She couldn't help but wonder why she never noticed he smelled that good. The rules, laid down by the military. Male and female officers couldn't get within six inches of each other. Perhaps that was the reason.

She closed the door and walked into the room next to it, the bathroom. It smelled of many different shampoos and soaps. It was clean. Everything on the sink was neatly arranged and stacked. She frowned. Why didn't his space at work look this pristine?

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Her cheek was still bright red. A shiver ran down her back and she returned to the main room. She noticed the Colonel was rubbing his cheeks, trying to cover up his tears, no doubt. He spotted the glass on the table and looked at her questioningly. She motioned that he could have it.

He lifted it to his lips and took a small sip. "Damn." He muttered.

"Something wrong, Sir?" She walked to the back of the couch and looked down at him.

"You mean beside the obvious?"

She winced.

"Well, there's the fact that my throat hurts like Hell. Then…" He shook his head. "I feel like an ass for touching you."

"Please Sir, don't feel bad. I know you didn't mean it." She touched her cheek hesitantly. The pain was long gone, but she could still feel warmth radiating off of it.

"Then… Your taking care of my in my own home." He leaned forward. Curling into a ball wouldn't be the way to describe it, but it's what he wish he would have done.

"I'm hardly taking care of you, Sir." She muttered. "I got you a glass of water, that's all."

"No, Lieutenant. You've done so much more.." He whispered. She almost didn't catch it. He wasn't sure if she did or not.

She swallowed painfully and moved around the couch. Slowly, she examined his position and sat down beside him. "Sir, that doesn't look at all comfortable." She almost felt like smiling again as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

"It isn't." He muttered, sitting up. Again, the urge to smile.

She leaned back and closed her eyes. Finally, the man beside her seemed to be returning to normal. Not quite perfect, but the gleam in his eyes seemed to returning slowly. His tone was still dark though, and she could tell by the way he was moving that he was in pain. Physical pain, it seemed.

He could feel something inside him crack. He wasn't sure if it was a bone, a blood vessel.. Maybe his heart? He shook his head. Beside him sat his faithful Lieutenant. Somehow, he would have to find a way to thank her. She said she wasn't doing anything, but she had no idea. It seemed like her presence beside him was warming him from the outside in. Unfortunately, he wasn't warming fast enough. He could feel misery hanging over his head. A heavy weight. It made his shoulders sag and his head hang.

The only thing that could make him considering looking up was that he had someone beside him that cared for him, even if it wasn't quite in the way he wished. She was still here. That was all the mattered. She cared enough to come.

Silently, he pondered why she had been sent to tell him, instead of someone else. Perhaps Havoc? Maybe even Gracia? Did they really have that little faith in his strength? Or did she elect to come, on her own free will? He doubted it, but the thought touched him. Please him, even.

Light, even breathing beside him made him look over. Sure enough, he eyes were closed. He smiled. "Sleeping on the job, Lieutenant?" He whispered. She leaned to the side and rested her head on the arm of the couch.

He couldn't help but watch her. She was like a child. Peaceful, free in her own dreamland. She looked so tranquil and pleasant. He wanted to wake her up, tell her to go home. He wanted to carry her to his bed so she would be more comfortable. He wanted to at least get her coat off her shoulders when he noticed it was still on her.

No… He couldn't imagine how awkward that wouldn't have been. He may be a womanizer, but he wasn't some kind of pervert. He shivered. When he stood, she stirred in her sleep. He tiptoed away and into his room. The door was closed… He sighed. Snooping around his apartment? Honestly, the woman was insane.

He rummaged through his drawers, looking for anything suitable. What was she wearing? He grabbed a shirt from his drawer. She'd have to wear the same pants. He knew none of his would even come close to fitting her. Tip toeing back out, he tapped her on the shoulder gently.

She stirred but didn't wake.

With a sly grin, he put his face next to her ear. "Riza honey, time to wake up." He whispered.

She groaned. "Roy, go away. I'm tired." She put her hand over her face.

He stood up and stared at her in awe. "Did she really just say that?" He asked in shock. Once again, he bent down.

"C'mon Riza. Gonna be late for work." He murmured.

She groaned and lifted her head. "What? No we won't. It's not a work da-" She blinked and stared at him. She was sure her face was a deep shade of red. It matched Roy's.

"Well, that sure as Hell wasn't awkward." He muttered. She glared at him, wishing she had brought her gun with her. Or maybe some sort of weapon. She wasn't above hiding embracement with a threat.

"That was a dirty trick, Colonel." A growl escaped her throat.

Roy lifted his hands in defense. "Hey! Not my fault. I didn't actually expect you to…" He trailed off and his face turned bright pink once again.

"What did you wake me up for?" She stretched and yawned. It hadn't seemed to sink in that she had fallen asleep in a superior officer's home yet.

"I wondered if you'd be more comfortable in a change of clothes and a bed." He asked. He extended the hand that held his shirt. He dropped it into her hands and she nodded approvingly.

"Well, yes. That would be nice. I'm assuming that means you don't feel I'm intruding?" She paused. "Wait a second!"

"What?"

"Who's bed are we talking about?" She narrowed her eyes. Many disturbing suspicions were running through her mind.

"Mine, of course."

She stared at him blankly. He continued to look at her calmly, until he realized his fatal error.

"I-I'd be sleeping on the couch. You would sleep in there." He paused to point at his door. "And I'll sleep out here." He assured her.

She still didn't look convinced. "Are you sure, Sir? Considering the circumstances, I think I should head home. You've had a slightly rough night. I really don't want to make it any more difficult." She got to her feet.

"No." He reached out, almost desperately, and seized her shoulders. "Really. You staying won't make my night any worse. To the contrary." He smiled sheepishly.

She felt herself smile. A smile. A true, honest-to-God smile. It made his heart skip a beat.

"Well, Sir, I can see I can't argue with you…" She pried his hands off her shoulders carefully and glanced at her watch. "It's just going on 10." She muttered. Suddenly, the thought of going to work the next day made her sigh dejectedly.

"I feel the same way, believe me." He muttered, letting his hands hang at his sides again.

She looked at the shirt in her hands. "If you'll excuse me…" She murmured. She brushed past him towards the bathroom. For a second, he stared after her, but he quickly regained his senses. He walked into his room casually and grabbed and old pair of sweat pants. He pulled them on pulled his shirt over his head. He rummaged around the drawers for another shirt. Something that looked pajama-ish. He didn't want to feel like a complete ass for sleeping without a shirt on.

The bathroom door swung open and she walked out. She walked past the open door, easily noticing a shirtless Colonel walking around his room. She raised and brow and turned around. He felt a quiet gasp escape his lips and grabbed the first shirt he spotted that wasn't dirty. He pulled it on frantically. _It's not like she had never seen someone without a shirt on. _But she had never seen _him_ without a shirt. Especially not in a situation like this.

"M'kay. I'm decent." He called, walking up behind her.

"For once in your life?" She raised a brow and turned to look at him.

"Ouch." Although she didn't show it most of the time, she had sarcasm down.

"I apologize, Sir." She bowed her head for a second. In her hands, she held her jacket and blouse. He risked a glance at her and couldn't help but grin. She had on her pants - luckily for her, they looked comfortable - with his shirt hanging loosely over a black undershirt.

"It's a good look for you." He commented, several different implications in his tone.

She shot him a sharp glare. "At any rate, are you sure you're willing to give up your bed?" She asked, glancing past him.

She had always thought one of the most sacred items you could own was a bed. Once you shared your bed with someone, they were always welcome to return to it. She shivered involuntarily.

"Relax." He muttered, putting his hand on her shoulder. At the touch, he seemed to feel how frail she felt under his fingers. It was as if he could simply push, and she would be on the floor in an instant. The thought almost scared him. The fact that she was so… Strong to look at. But when you touched her, she seemed to fall apart under your touch.

"Sir?"

He realized that his whole body had tensed up and forced himself to relax. "Sorry… He muttered, removing his hand and walking back into the bedroom.

"Is there anything else you need?" He asked. The bed was already made. A habit he learned when he was a child.

"Nothing I can think of, Sir." She walked past him and pulled the covers back. She felt uncomfortable. He was watching her, making her skin crawl. Swallowing some pride, she crawled into the bed and brought the covers up over her chin, as if it would protect her from any monsters in the room.

"Shall I read you a bedtime story?" He asked whimsically. She had the urge to kick him.

"No, Sir. I'm fine." She muttered.

"Need a glass of water?"

"No, Sir."

He was sitting on the bed, slowly leaning forward. As he inched closer to her, she brought to covers farther up over her face protectively.

"Sir…" She whimpered. His face flushed again. He jumped to his feet and walked over to the door. "Night, Lieutenant." He muttered and flicked the light off. He pulled the door shut behind him, leaving her in an unknown room. And unknown bed. With an unknown - yet all too familiar - scent surrounding her.

She knew she was going to have a hard time falling asleep. Burying her face in the feather-soft pillows, she closed her eyes and urged sleep to take her over quickly.

Laying down on the couch, Roy sighed and covered his face with his hands. They were separated again. He could feel the loneliness stab through him like double-edged blades. The loss of Hughes was cutting into his heart again. He needed her, and he knew it.

It was pathetic. The first female officer he works with, he falls in love with. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for sleep.

__________

In the morning, Roy jumped up and ran into his room. "Lieutenant, wake up." He turned the lights on and ran to the bedside. He gripped her shoulder and shook her gently. She stirred and grumbled something but didn't wake.

Why was it so hard to wake her up!?

He glanced at the clock. Everyone was going to suspect something if they both walked in late. Together.

"Please wake up, Hawkeye."

He bit his lip. She wasn't going to like it, but he needed to get changed and she needed to get back home to get ready for work. Hesitantly, he reached under her and gently carried her over to the door. Her eyes shot open and she looked around in shock.

He knew the feeling, she didn't know where she was. Or who was holding her. "Lieutenant, you are at my apartment. We are supposed to be in the office in ten minutes."

She blinked and looked at him in confusion. Until it hit her. "Shit!" She jumped out of his arms and grabbed her clothes off the floor. She pulled off his shirt and tossed it at him.

"Thank you for the hospitality, Sir." She bowed once she had pulled her coat on over her undershirt. She silently rejoiced she wore two shirts and ran to the door. "See you at work, Sir!" She called before running out the door and running down the stairs.

Roy blinked and stared after her. "Well, that was fast." He muttered, tossing the shirt she wore onto the floor and getting dressed for work. He pulled his uniform jacket over his shirt and sighed. There was a hollow feeling inside his chest. He felt sick. He felt tired. He didn't want to go to work. He wanted to sit at home with his Lieutenant. A home… With his Lieutenant. It sounded nice.

The thought of the smile she had shown last night warmed his broken heart, even if it was only in the slightest. He prayed that someday his heart would get over the hurt of loosing his best friend. Maybe, just maybe, he could trash the heart break and make room for love. Perhaps a love that would go on forever. He would only hope it would last forever. Or, as long as they did…

It's what Hughes always wanted, anyways.

He froze and looked up at the ceiling. It wasn't fate that she had happened to spend the night on the night he found out about his friends murder… It was the work of Hughes.

He could almost see the bastard flying around in heaven laughing his proud little ass off.


End file.
